


Tell me to stop

by tea_for_lupin



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Porn, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24676054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_for_lupin/pseuds/tea_for_lupin
Summary: Now John was very still, apart from the shudder of his breathing. ‘What do you want from me, Jones?’‘Iwant,’ Ben said, ‘to see you wrecked. I want to see you feeling something, losingcontrol.I want,’ he growled, grinding against John’s arse, ‘to make you lose it. And I think you want that too.’----------------Contains spoilers for Midsomer Murders s19 ep3 'Last Man Out'.
Relationships: John Barnaby/Ben Jones
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27
Collections: Midsomer_Melee





	Tell me to stop

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags; if dubcon makes you uncomfortable in a way you don't enjoy, please don't read.

The C-10 bar was still well-populated when Ben told his teammates he was going to call it a day.

‘Fancy a lift?’ John said, finishing the last of his drink and nodding farewell to Winter. ‘It’s about time I was heading home too.’

Ben didn’t _feel_ drunk, exactly, but he knew when he’d had too much to risk driving, no matter how fine he felt. ‘That’d be great, actually, yeah.’

They crossed the cricket ground, which lay still and silent as the floodlights flared on in the growing dusk. Ben hesitated by the pavilion to look back across the oval. Part of him couldn’t believe that, after months of careful work, the operation was finally over. Despite the drinks he’d had, despite incipient exhaustion, his body was still buzzing with aftermath.

‘An eventful few days,’ John said, drily. 

Ben snorted at the understatement. ‘I think I might sleep for a week.’

‘You held your nerve well. Undercover work suits you.’

Ben raised his eyebrows, as if those words of praise hadn’t shaken him to his core. ’That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.’

John’s mouth softened into that small amused smile, almost too subtle for the name. ‘First time for everything.’

‘I’m sorry it meant I couldn’t get in touch,’ Ben said. ‘Really. I would have if I could.’ He meant it; it had been… yeah, _years_ , since his last visit to Midsomer, even for work. Seeing John walking towards him after he’d found Leo’s body had hit Ben like a punch to the gut; an unexpectedly heady combination of _God, don’t blow my cover_ and _Christ, it’s so good to see you._

‘I know.’ John placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, squeezed it lightly; as if he could read Ben’s thoughts. ‘Come on. Let’s get you home.’

But instead of following John’s lead—turning towards the car, towards home—instead of that, Ben found himself saying, ‘Wait—there’s something I want to do, first.’ 

John paused, questioning, and Ben stepped in nearer. He slid a hand up and around to cup the back of John’s neck, pulled them close enough for their foreheads to touch. Tentatively, he pressed his lips to John’s. 

And after a moment John pulled away, gently but firmly moving Ben’s hand back and down. ‘You’ve had one too many, Jones.’ 

He didn’t seem angry, or repulsed. Ben would have known what to do with those responses, had done it before. Knew how to defend himself if he had to. But this—

Not for the first time, Ben suddenly _burned_ to see John lose his composure, that rock-solid, unflappable distance, just once. Just bloody _once_ ; all the adrenalin and tension in his system coalesced to this one clear point of want. He stepped in closer. He was taller than John, fitter and more muscular; they both knew it. A flicker of uncertainty behind John’s eyes made Ben’s cock twitch and his heart speed up. Slowly, deliberately, he crowded John in against the wall of the pavilion, blocking him in place with his arms.

‘I’ve had a few,’ he agreed, calmly. ‘Enough that I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. Not so many I don’t know what I’m doing.’ He grazed his mouth across John’s face, pressed their bodies together. His own cock was already achingly hard, and with a surge of satisfaction he felt John’s beginning to respond. ‘Well, go on, then. Tell me to stop.’

John’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed; Ben could see the stutter of the pulse in his throat. But his voice was still steady when he spoke. ‘You don’t want to do this, Jones.’

‘The hell I don’t. Your psychology won’t work on me, John; I watched you do it too many times.’ Ben’s grin widened as he rutted himself against John, heard—finally—John’s voice catch ragged as he tried to suppress a groan. Ben tangled his hands in John’s hair, almost tight enough for pain, tilting John’s head back. He said again, relentless, ‘If you don’t want this, _tell me to stop.’_ Without waiting for an answer he brought his mouth to John’s ear, nipped at it; worked his way down to John’s exposed neck and, when John still spoke no word of protest, up again to his mouth. 

There was nothing cautious about this kiss. John opened to him because Ben would have forced him to anyway, and they were both gasping when Ben finally pulled back. In a haze of arousal Ben was almost caught off guard when John twisted suddenly to the side and broke away from him; but he grabbed John’s arm and spun him around, pressed him up against the pavilion wall.

Now John was very still, apart from the shudder of his breathing. ‘What do you want from me, Jones?’

‘I _want,_ ’ Ben said, ‘to see you wrecked. I want to see you feeling something, losing _control._ I want,’ he growled, grinding against John’s arse, ‘to make you lose it. And I think you want that too.’

John drew in a sharp breath; by now Ben had fumbled his way past John’s flies and into his pants, and John’s cock was hard and heavy in Ben’s hand. Ben stroked it mercilessly for a long minute, until his own could wait no longer. 

’Turn around.’ John obeyed, making a hot feeling of triumph blossom in Ben’s gut. He kissed John again, roughly, abandoning John’s cock momentarily to unbutton his jeans before taking them both back into his hand. Hell, that was good, and _fuck,_ he hadn’t realised how much and how long he had been wanting this— 

Bracing himself against the wall with one shaking arm, Ben held himself as far back as he could so he could see as much of John’s face as the shadows would allow. John’s head was thrown back, his mouth open and eyes closed, hips bucking. Just as Ben had wanted him, had pictured him. The sight shocked Ben suddenly into the realisation of what he was doing, and his desperate pressure on their cocks slackened and slowed.

John made a wordless noise. Eyes still closed, he managed to say, ’Don’t, Ben—don’t—‘ 

‘Don’t what?’

John opened his eyes, blue and blissed with want. ‘Don’t _stop.’_

And Ben didn’t.

They both came at once, panting, spilling messy and thick over Ben’s fist. His vision swam a little as he pulled back, wiping his trembling hand on his trousers, tucking himself away. 

‘John?’ 

John passed his tongue over his lips. With almost mechanical movements, he tidied himself up, straightened his jacket and tie. For a painfully brief moment his gaze flickered to Ben’s face, then settled resolutely elsewhere.

Ben stifled down the cold sickness rising in his throat, scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘John?’ he asked again.

‘Everything all right, sir?’ 

_Fuck._ Ben had all but forgotten they were barely a hundred metres from the still-busy bar, and Winter’s voice took him unpleasantly by surprise. John, too; but within the blink of an eye he had forced himself back together, turning towards Winter as the latter approached.

‘I thought you were giving DI Jones a lift home, sir.’ Winter glanced curiously from one of them to the other. 

‘Yes, we were… momentarily sidetracked,’ John said. ‘A lot to catch up on,’ he added, and this time when he looked at Ben there was no flinching away. Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Winter seemed about to ask a further question and then—thank God—to think better of it. ‘Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.’ 

‘Good night, Winter.’ 

‘Yeah, night,’ Ben managed, as Winter walked away, jingling his keys.

They stood together for a long silent minute, and then John said, ‘Did you get what you wanted?’

This was absolutely the last thing that Ben had expected to hear; he blinked, but there was no expression on John’s face to help guide his answer. He swallowed, and opted for honesty. ‘Yeah, I did.’

‘I didn’t tell you,’ John said, carefully, as if discovering the words only as he spoke them, ‘to stop.’

Ben answered, just as carefully, ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘If I had.’ John paused. ‘Would you have stopped?’

‘Yes,’ Ben answered automatically. Then, stricken, ‘No. I don’t…know.’

‘Would you still like that lift home?’

Ben stared. ‘John, I just—God, you don’t have to—look,’ he said, jamming his hands into his pockets, ‘if you’re still offering, all right.’

They drove without speaking until at last Ben said, unable to bear the silence any longer, ’I don’t make a habit of it, you know.’

‘Of what,’ John answered, ‘slamming your—friends—up against walls in public locations and fucking them?’

Ben passed his tongue over dry lips; he still couldn’t read John’s expression or tone of voice. ‘That, yeah.’

John pulled up outside Germaine Troughton’s house and turned off the engine. The house’s bulk was only a faint outline under the sky and no light came from any window; _of course,_ Ben thought with a sense of surreality, _she was arrested. She murdered two people and tried to kill me._ It seemed like something that had happened long ago and far away. He was, suddenly, bone-tired.

‘You could,’ John said, ‘if you wanted.’

Ben squinted at him. ‘What—‘

‘Go and get some sleep, Ben.’ John leaned across him to push open the passenger-side door. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll talk. But for now—‘

‘...Right.’ Ben pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and gave himself a little shake before hauling himself out of the car. ’Thanks for—thanks for the lift.’

‘Good night, Ben.’

Ben watched as the tail-lights of John’s car drew away and gradually vanished; only after-images remained, flickering in and out of his vision as he let himself in to the silent house.


End file.
